“A—a chance?” Mary stammered.
“Sure,” the man smiled, “you look like a good nurse. Your brother, here, I am told, is a fine motor mechanic. Climb in the plane and come along with me—both of you.”
“A ticket to adventure!” The words so often repeated now echoed in Mary’s ears.
“What do you say?” Mark turned to her.
“There—there’s still work to be done,” she stammered.
“The work can wait. This appears a plain call of duty.” Mark’s voice trembled ever so slightly.
“All right. We’ll go.” Mary felt a thrill course up her spine. At the same instant she caught the eye of Dave Kennedy. In those fine eyes she read something quite wonderful, a look of admiration and yet of concern.
She and Dave had become great friends. Dave was a wonderful fellow. His Scotch mother was small, quite frail, yet altogether lovely. When their logs in their cabin walls had begun to warp, Dave and his father had sodded it up, quite to the eaves. Now they were all set for winter.
“I’ll look after your horse and cow and—and cut the wood,” Dave said huskily. “I only wish I might take your place.” He looked Mary squarely in the eye.
“I’m glad you can’t,” she laughed, looking away. “I’m sure it will be a wonderful adventure.”